Our sky-vessel dropped toward the earth, moving downward in smooth, wide spirals. A patch of land had been cleared from the rough pine forest surrounding the base of Galipolas Mountain, marked with lime-washed stones. I could see streets of tents, rough roads with crudely knocked up wooden stores and buildings on either side of them, and hundreds of soldiers moving around the area.
It reminded me of a Dodge City of kinds, of a frontier town in which the notion of law was just that: a notion.
As our transport got closer and closer, I noticed the faces of my fellow dragonmancers change. Gone were the looks of casual relaxation. Now, their expressions were all hard eyes and stern mouths.
They were the faces of women who were steeling themselves to face the unknown. An unknown that was, most likely, going to prove deadly for a lot of those troopers milling around outside in the crude streets below us.
Once we landed, the other dragonmancers and I exited the vessel ahead of our coteries. The mood was serious and intent. Eyes flicked from side to side. Nostrils dilated as new scents were sifted with dragon-enhanced senses. Ears were pricked for the slightest sound out of the ordinary. We might not have been walking around in enemy territory per se, but we were quite a way from the security and familiar surrounds of the landscape that encircled the Drako Academy.
One thing was certain; we weren’t in Kansas anymore.
We were met by a stern-faced sergeant and led away from where our ship and a couple of others had been moored. This sergeant took us to the edge of the enormous encampment where a massive tent had been erected.
“This is the command tent,” the nameless sergeant informed me. “Dragonmancer Noctis, General Shiloh has requested you to step inside and talk with her. The rest of your companions have been asked to rendezvous with the dragonmancers already on site.”
I looked over my shoulder and nodded at Elenari, Saya, Penelope, Amara, Renji, and Tamsin.
“Better do as the General asks,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you all a little bit later, yeah?”
“I’m going to check with the chief blacksmith and the quartermaster first,” Renji said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Do what you’ve got to do,” I said, “then let’s get our asses down into the Subterranean Realms.”
There was a chorus of agreements. Our party broke up, the sergeant leading my friends away so that only my squad and I remained.
“All right, lads,” I said, “I better go and meet with this head honcho. If you hear me screaming, feel free to rush in and do your jobs.”
“I have heard that General Shiloh is a b-b-bit of a hardass,” Rupert warned me in a low voice.
I grinned and slapped our squad’s medic on the shoulder.
“That actually makes me feel a little better,” I said.
“Why?” Rupert asked.
“Because if she decides she doesn’t like me and kills me, at least I won’t have to pay you fuckers back the money I owe you from Maim Mr. Turnip.”
With that, I waggled my eyebrows, ripped open the tent flap, and strode into the command tent.
Part of our dragonmancer training involved honing our dragon-enhanced senses. There was a lot of emphasis placed by our preceptors on our skills of observation and deduction. Being able to walk into a room and ascertain, in the first couple of seconds, the vibe of the atmosphere, the physical layout of the place, and any clues that might help you form an idea of the people or person inside was extremely important. Having a knack for interpreting the data supplied by your eyes, ears, and nose could be the difference between drawing your sword or not—or, as the case may be, summoning your dragon.
The command tent was like every command tent that I had ever seen in films: big, square, and mostly filled by a huge table, spread with maps held down by tokens. I noticed straightaway that the map taking center stage depicted the rough layout of the base or township I found myself in. It was, I also noted, mostly blank. There were a few snaking tunnels leading out from the town, but they did not go far before they became nothing more than clean yellow parchment.
“Dragonmancer Noctis,” came a deep voice from over in one corner, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, lad.”
There was a large square form sitting behind the square desk in the corner of the command tent. As my eyes flicked over to the owner of the voice, the figure straightened up, signed something with a flourish, and looked back at me.
“General Shiloh,” I said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ma’am.”
I don’t think I had ever seen a more imposing woman. The General had shoulders that were about two axe handles wide. She was a head shorter than me, but looked like she could quite easily have lifted me over her head, dragonmancer or no. Her eyes were gray and quick and perceptive. Her chestnut-colored hair was cut short to keep it out of her eyes, flecked with gray at the temples and had one thick streak of white running down one side.
The General was dressed in the all-sable battle gear of the fully qualified dragonmancer, with a silver dragon claw on each of her brawny shoulders. It was not the sort of crisp, deep sable that I might have been expecting for a general. Rather, it was worn and dusty, mud spattered up the back of her breeches, and a roughly stitched cut running down one arm. Her boots were
